


I Wanted To Love Him

by jackiestolz



Category: Smosh
Genre: F/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackiestolz/pseuds/jackiestolz
Summary: Ian's death is a tragedy, but as Anthony finds out more of how it happened, he discovers a relationship he didn't know about and an unrequited love that sent Ian to his grave.





	

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this like super quick, I missed writing and should probably be working on hypotheticals but like. i didn't so here's this. let me know if you enjoyed!

He never saw the body. Just got a call early in the morning, and by the time he arrived, there was only blood pooled on the wooden floor, mixed with bits of hair and brain and tiny shards of bone and tracked out by the thin wheels of the stretcher. The gun had been confiscated by the police.

Mari had been the one to call. They were meant to carpool, she’d explained to him. When he didn’t text back, she went to knock on his door. But she glanced through the window first.

He was face down, apparently. When the police came and knocked the door in, they didn’t flip him over. One officer put two fingers to his neck, but didn’t hold them there long. That was when she called him, when she couldn’t control her tears, when the sobs wracked her body and sirens blasted in the background.

“He’s hurt.” She’d said to him, her voice hoarse. “Ian, he – he fucking shot himself.”

And poor Anthony’s blood ran cold.

“I’ll be there soon.” He gave a simple reply, his voice tight. 

On the drive over, he somehow expected that Ian was still alive. It wasn’t a declaration of suicide, it wasn’t pointed out specifically that he’d died. Anthony just made the easiest assumption. But when he parked next to Mari’s car, and saw no ambulance, no police remaining at the scene, something inside him felt heavy. And when he stepped up to the apartment, the door was wide open, and he saw the blood before he saw Mari, sat on the couch and sobbing.

Ian was dead. He knew it in an instant, and he could feel bile in his throat, could see the whole world darken. Mari stood, but it didn’t register until she crossed the room and embraced him in the doorway. He wrapped his arms around her slowly, but his eyes stayed on that terrible red stain, all that remained of his friend.

“They didn’t flip him over.” She whispered into his ear. “I didn’t see his face.”

“Is that a good thing?” He asked numbly, and she squeezed him harder.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Anthony.” She answered, and they stood together for awhile.

When they finally found the couch, Anthony sat hunched over, staring at the blood as the edges of the puddle began to dry.

“His mother will have to pay someone to clean it.” She said quietly. Anthony’s chest had never been tighter, and he stayed silent. A full minute passed.

“What happened?” He asked, though he didn’t expect Mari could answer.

“I said on the phone.” She said, with tears welled up in her eyes. “We were going to carpool–”

“I know. That’s not–” He let out a heavy sigh. He hadn’t meant to be short with her. “I saw him yesterday.”

She looked at him as though she expected him to continue, but after a moment it was clear that she would have to prod the words from him. He wasn’t sat in deep thought, he was only shocked numb. When he sat in silence it was as a ghost.

“How was he?” She rubbed his arm, though he could hardly acknowledge the support.

“Happy.” He answered simply. “I thought he was happy. He smiled, laughed. It was so normal.”

Bits and pieces of brown hair caught his gaze. Ian’s scalp, blown apart.

“Why would he do this?” Anthony asked, but didn’t look at her, and knew again that this wasn’t something she could tell him. But she did.

“Me.” Mari said, and her hand lingered on his arm. The weight was suddenly foreboding.

He turned at stared at her, her eyes all glassy and red-rimmed. There was a sadness in her expression that nearly burned him to see, but it couldn’t stop his inquiry.

“You?” He asked, and a look of hurt flashed on her face.

“He loved me.” She said quietly. “I – I didn’t feel the same.”

Now that was something he really didn’t have an answer to. It seemed impossible, for a feeling as strong as love to swell in his closest friend’s heart and for him not to know.

“No.” He shook himself and pulled away. “You’re – I’m sorry, Mari, you must be mistaken.”

She saw his shift away from him and returned her hand reluctantly back to her own arm to hug herself slightly.

“He asked me out for coffee a few months ago, things . . . escalated. We went on a few dates.” She said, her eyes on the ground, on the blood that remained. “This – this has to be hard to hear, Anthony, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not hard. Because it’s not real.” He stood and walked away in a huff, then found himself in the kitchen. A burner was hot on the stove, the kettle beside it. A mug with a teabag sat forlorn on the counter. What had happened? Had he just been unable to muster some strength, to clear some unknown hurtle? He just stopped halfway through his tea to end his life, but Anthony could barely realize it.

He turned off the burner and saw Mari’s shadow fall over him. An exhausted sigh broke through him.

“He didn’t tell me.” Anthony admitted quietly. “He was my best friend, why didn’t he tell me you two were . . . were what, Mari?”

He turned and looked at her; her eyes were still shiny and red-rimmed, but he hadn’t even cried yet.

“Ian was so – forlorn, I guess. I think he knew from the very beginning that I wouldn’t feel the same.” Mari said quietly. “But I tried. He was my friend.”

“So he just didn’t talk. Didn’t clue me into something he knew wouldn’t have a happy ending.” He thought of the blood in the other room and winced. “He knew he would kill himself without you. He had that gun ready for the moment you dumped him.”

“Don’t.” Mari warned, her voice pleading. “Please. I don’t want this to be my fault.”

“It’s not.” Anthony said automatically. He crossed the room and clasped her firmly by the shoulders. “Maybe something else was going on, maybe he was depressed.”

“He did a good job hiding it.” She said glumly, and he silently agreed. He always had been so quiet, it was so easy for some feelings to fall through the cracks.

“Did you? Dump him?” He asked, and her lip trembled. “Like, why exactly did he do this?”

She stepped back and turned her head. Her profile was mostly concealed by her hair, but he could still see the tears fall down her cheeks. He shouldn’t push her, he knew it wasn’t kind in her state, not at this moment, but he couldn’t stop. Not with his friend dead.

“Please. Give me some answers here.” He asked, and she nodded slowly, then stepped over and sat at the kitchen table. He sat across her and waited patiently as she wiped her tears.

“He asked me out after a Game Bang. We went for coffee, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. We kept hanging out, we got close . . .”

“You fucked him.” He said, not a question, and if it were another time she would have smiled.

“Yeah.” She answered, and he hated the envy that hit him so suddenly. “It was lovely. The whole thing was lovely.”

“But?” He prompted, and she shook her head.

“There was a look in his eye that wouldn’t leave. It was there before he asked me, there for months.” She said. “Gentle and kind. Sweet. Love, clear as day and all for me.”

He’d never seen it, never paid enough attention. It made him bitter to know there was so much going on in Ian’s life that he hadn’t known about. Bitter that he hadn’t been told but more so that he hadn’t figured it out himself.

“He was my best friend. I wish more than anything that I wanted that look. But I couldn’t feel anything for him.” She seemed angry with herself, and he knew this day would weigh heavy on her shoulders for a long time. It wasn’t her fault, but she still wouldn’t really let it go. “So I told him. And it was messy.”

“He took it bad.” Anthony assumed, but she shook her head.

“No, he barely took it at all. Very calm, very reserved, you know how he – how he was.” She said, and he nodded instinctively. “Just . . . asked again a few more times. Tried to see if I would change my mind. To see if he could change something about himself. I spent a lot of time politely refusing him.”

“Did you get angry with him? Did you have a fight?” He asked and feared the response. He wouldn’t want the last thing Ian heard to be hateful. She shook her head, but given the circumstances he could feel no relief.

“I think I would have if it continued much longer.” She admitted honestly. “I was getting frustrated, but we were still friends and I feel so strongly for him, so I kept my mouth shut.”

She sighed and looked down at her hands. Anthony still felt dumbfounded, but it was sinking in slowly. Ian loved her; an odd and foreign fact, something Anthony didn’t know a thing about, something that should have been beautiful and special. And he killed himself over it.

“I should have seen this coming.” Mari said quietly, almost to herself. “He seemed so exhausted, in the end. He could barely fake it in front of the rest of you. I just thought he was upset, I never knew he would do this.”

“It’s not your fault.” Anthony repeated firmly. “No one knew. No one could have seen this, no one could have saved him, not one of us. He probably needed help long before he felt something for you.”

She nodded slowly and sniffled, and he reached out and grabbed her hand. They sat in silence for a very long moment.

“What now?” She whispered, and Anthony squeezed her fingers as he searched for something to say.

“I’m jealous.” He finally managed, and she looked up at him in surprise. “Not that I could have returned those feelings either, but – but he cast them onto you.”

“You would have wanted that? For him to love you?” She asked, and Anthony knew he would never want the attention Mari had, the loving and attentive kind that ended in tragedy anyway.

“Not really. I just – you had a chance for closeness that I never did.” He said. “I wish I’d felt the smallest bit of that before we lost him.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, all choked up. “I wanted to love him. I wish I could have saved him.”

But for a man to believe he couldn’t live without someone, he was already lost.

“What happens now . . .” Anthony repeated. “Is that you go home. We’re all taking a few days off. I’ll call the crew and handle everything.”

“I’m sorry.” She said again, her voice tight, and they both stood. She wrapped him in a tight hug, and he rubbed her back.

“Get some rest, don’t let this cloud you.” He mumbled to her, but it felt useless. This would keep her up for far too many nights.

She gave him a tight grimace, an attempt at a sympathetic smile, then walked away. He stood for a long minute, dread coiled in his gut. When he finally entered the living room and saw the blood again, it was like a punch to the throat. There couldn’t be an open casket funeral. This was the last he would see of his dear friend. To see this gore and to hear such an awful story of such lingering pain.

He walked past it and shut the door behind him, then crossed the lot and got into his car. He sat for a very long moment, the quiet of it all compressing him from all sides. And then he cried at last, all wailing and heaving and sobbing for a poor man who couldn’t hear it and a girl who could only do the same.


End file.
